Tell Me They're Lying
by Aiwe Saito
Summary: Salazar would kiss her and make her forget, like he always did, and Helga would forgive him, like she always did, and he would have manipulated her into once again ignoring his mad behavior... No. Not again. Not ever, ever again.
1. The Great Departure

A/N: I always thought Salazar leaving was a little fishy... and anyway, I just decided to work with human nature a little. Originally an entry for HPFF United, but it turned out a little more twisted than I'd expected.

Disclaimer: Is this really necessary?

* * *

Helga Hufflepuff had always been willing to make sacrifices.

When her father had died, suddenly and mysteriously, she had instantly left her dream apprenticeship at the apothecary, quitting her research in order to take care of her younger brothers and sisters. When a shepherd grazing in the outskirts of her town ran suddenly in with harrowing tales of great ships and pallid faces, she alone stayed back and laid the traps for the Saxons while the rest ran. And when, escaping from her dear great _Cymru, _that beautiful country that they dared to call _Whale, _her sweet, smiling siblings died from the great sickness, she paid everything she had to give them a proper burial the way her parents would have done.

She was no stranger to the hard road, to taking cuts here and there for her own eventual survival. She alone had come off of that small, dreary dinghy unscathed, and had learned much from that journey to the hills of Scotland. There had been no one to protect after that but herself; and she had promised the moment she set foor on dry land that she would do a damn good job of it.

She had realized the importance in courtesy and flattery, in self-serving kindness and how just-a-little here paid off a-whole-lot there.

As she got older, she trained herself; honed the art of honeyed words and easy charm, let herself grow slightly rotund to increase her matronly appearance. She absorbed herself in her work, quickly rising to the top of the magical world. She was loved by many, and despite her attempts, she loved quite a few as well.

But there were two things that she treasured above all others, that she would do anything and everything for no matter the cost to her own well-being. For those, she would not cut corners, nor take the hard road. No matter the cost to herself, she needed that place, that man, to be safe and secure before she could even think about existing in peace herself.

She had seen Salazar Slytherin and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry through trial and tribulation. She had laughed with them, cried with them; watched them grow into the great entities they had become. She had poured herself, body and soul into both of them, with only the hope that one day her work would be appreciated to keep her sane.

She was not a fool, though-- she knew that Salazar was too caught up with his nonsense, his pure-blood centered agenda to think about anything so menial as _feelings_. He never saw the world before him, the students that came through his classes; he was too busy trying to play God, tinkering with the future and dallying in the theoretical. He had no use for anything but his studies anymore-- half the time she had to remind him to eat!

But it was all right. One day, she hoped, one day he would figure it all out, and the curtain would be lifted and he would see the utter ridiculousness of his prattling.

And soon, she hoped; Godric had a wild temper, and cheerful words could only sate it for so long.

She sighed, picking up the tea and sipping it quietly with a sad shake of her head.

"Soon, Salazar," she said to the doorway. "For all of our sakes."

* * *

Helga stared at her doorway, unseeing, her mind churning as she contemplated the events of the last hour with utter horror.

She had known Salazar's beliefs-- it wasn't as if he kept it secret, and although she had tried her best to shield the dear Muggleborns, both in her house and the others, she knew they felt a certain unpleasantness radiating from Slytherin House. But this-- this took it past stares and whispers, jeers and taunts. Those things could be handled with discipline, careful weeding, a gently firm hand, but this; taking things to this extent meant there was no going back.

She still wasn't quite wrapping her head around it. A basilisk. A real, live, 100% genuine basilisk INSIDE Hogwarts, loose and untrained. In other circumstances, she would have liked to know where he'd gotten it as the less dangerous cockerel was much more common... but now was not the time for foolish, irrelevant questions.

Rowena had rushed in, delicate, high cheekbones flushed from the mad dash to Helga's quarters in the East Wing, telling her the whole story in between incredulous sobs. A student, one of the sweeter, well-liked young Ravenclaws, and (muggleborn to boot) had rushed in to Rowena's office, frightened half to death (figuratively speaking); a young Slytherin student had threatened to rouse the _'Slytherin secret weapon'_ against her. The young delinquent had been questioned, and after hours of prodding and threatening, had finally revealed that he had heard rumors of a giant, snakelike creature brought into the school to dispatch all those of impure blood.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who brought it in, and in typical Rowena fashion, had delegated the responsibility of talking to Salazar to Helga. It made sense, of course, but she wished she didn't have to go by herself; she always ended up doing things she didn't want to do and saying unexpected things when they were alone together.

But this time, of course, was different than all of the other times. He had done something enormously, hugely, unspeakably wrong, betrayed his house, the students, _her-- _she wanted to cry. She wished that it was hard to believe; that she could have looked at Rowena like the other woman was insane, laughing at her distress and muttering soothing excuses. But, of course, she had known Salazar far too long for that. She knew in her heart the moment the words left Rowena's lips, and the world became grey.

A few tears drifted down her cheeks, and before she hardly knew what she was doing, she was getting on her coat, readying herself for the cold walk down to the dungeons. As she put her hand in her pocket, she pricked her finger, and drew out a very small, but still quite sharp dagger. She contemplated it for a moment before replacing it, blade down; she sighed as she left the warm room, closing and locking the door behind her.

How had it come to this?

* * *

"Helga! Darling, what a lovely surprise, isn't it a little late for you to be running about? I mean, not that I'm don't wa--"

"Tell me they're lying."

She was surprised. That's not what she had meant to say-- and from the look on his face, it hadn't been what he'd expecting to hear.

"Beg your pardon, love?" Although his words were sweet and smooth, as they always were, his gaunt face was just a little more drawn, his grey eyes just a little sharper. He knew _exactly _what she was talking about.

"Tell me they're lying. Tell me there's no basilisk hidden inside these walls. Tell me that while we were building this castle you didn't make a secret chamber hidden from us. Tell me you aren't planning to kill a third of the students because of something they can't help."

Salazar's quick, darting glance and muttered curses were all she needed to know-- had she been a weaker woman, she probably would have fainted. It was one thing to expect it, to believe it was true; but to know that there was no chance of it being false...

"So I was right." Her voice was quiet, and much less accusing than it had been just a few moments prior. "It was true."

Although Salazar pursed his lips, his eyes softened, and he took her by the arm gently, opening the door with his free hand.

"You always did have entirely too much faith in me, Helga. Here, come in, let me get you some brandy," he said, and she followed, eyes slightly, glazed, still barely comprehending as he sat her down and went through the motions of getting her a drink. There was a long, drawn out silence.

"Darling, please, say something."

_How about for a brutish, heartless pig of a man your concern for my well-being seems slightly misplaced?_

"Why?" It was only one little word, but it seemed to hang there, swinging between the two of them for ages, and he sighed, his handsome face furrowing.

"_Must _we speak of this, Helga?"

"_Of course we must!" _She hissed, more forceful than she thought she'd ever been with him, and he sighed.

"All right," he said petulantly, as if it were some troublesome child they were speaking of rather than a giant, horrifying snake that killed people on sight.

"Why do you keep doing this to us, Salazar? We made a vow, a pact when we began this school; back when there was nothing but the foundation for the Great Hall and the plans for the North Tower, do you remember? We made a promise to each other then that no matter what would come, what personal strifes or controversial matters arose over time, we would always, _always_ act for the good of the school and the students. Have you so quickly forgotten a bond wrought in blood, Salazar?"

He gave a low growl, slamming his fist against the table; the rotten, dank wood splintered under the force and her now-spilled brandy soaked into its piecy surface. His voice was icy, but his eyes blazed with a fire Helga had not seen for a long time, and he shook slightly as he spoke.

"You insult me, Helga. How can you even _think _I would betray something of that sanctity--"

"You really believe that bringing in that... that _thing_ and doing what you want to do is_ beneficial_ to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I do!" His tone was horribly angry now, his eyes flashing as he kicked in a table leg, furious.

"This school needs a change of direction. That red-beared savage has taken over this place, made it a haven for the low-born and unintelligent, and I shall _NOT allow it to go any further!"_

Helga wanted to cry; it was worse than she thought. He hadn't betrayed them, wasn't trying to wheedle and slime his way out of their promise. He really believed he was doing his job. He had gone mad.

"Where is his accusation, hmm? Why is he not being berated and cornered? I'm telling you, that man has everyone under his thumb, Helga, even you!" He took a step towards her, and she got up swiftly, backing towards the door. She did not like the daggers in his eyes, the strangeness in his step. She reached backwards, fumbling for the door handle, but it was too late-- he had always been faster than her, and in moments, she was up against the wall, his long, elegant fingers wrapped around her throat.

"Tell me, my love, what did he do to pull you over? What did he promise you? Protection for your precious Mudbloods? A place in his bed?"

"How _dare_ you speak to me that way!" She attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but he simply pressed a little closer, his other hand against her arm.

"Come now, Helga, my dearest, you haven't been coming to visit me _nearly _as often as you used to-- I suppose you've found someone else better to your liking, then--"

"How dare you-- Salazar, how could you even think that, I--"

"Helga, Helga, Helga... it doesn't matter." His tone, so accusing before, became soft, sweet-- loving. He smiled, an oddly out-of-place gesture on his dour face. "It's all in the past now."

She opened her mouth, ready to defend herself-- she had done nothing, how could anything be in the past if it hadn't _happened_, for God's sakes-- but she closed it again just as quickly. She felt the hand lift from her forearm, raising gently to her icy cheek.

"Helga, my love." His voice was low; his lips came dangerously close to hers and all coherent thought left her for a moment. "Don't you trust me?"

And all at once, a rush of sudden and complete clarity washed over her. He would kiss her and make her forget, like he always did, and she would forgive him, like she always did, and he would have manipulated her into once again ignoring his mad behavior. She knew now it would get progressively worse; she could see it, as if it were happening at this very moment. The school would eventually fall at his hands, because he would never stop, no matter how many times she tried to convince him that he was wrong. His rightness had consumed him. She knew what she had to do.

She smiled, a bitter, terrible half-smile, tears welling up behind her eyes.

"No."

It happened so quickly; one moment he was there, his face puzzled, the next, her hand was in her pocket. And then he was staggering back, staring incredulously at the tiny, engraved dagger poking out of his chest.

Helga stared at her sullied hand, both frightened and excited.

"Why... Helga..."

"Y-Your actions endangered the s-ss-tudents, Salazar. I've let this go on lo-long enough. I'm... I'm truly sorry that it had to be this way," she said, the tears flowing freely now; a stark contrast to her cold, nonchalant tone.

He fell to the ground, looking everywhere but at her; she placed her fist in her mouth to try and muffle her great, gasping sobs.

"Go to Hell," he said, piercing grey eyes meeting hers defiantly; she stared through her tears, unable to look away from the man who had held her heart for so many years. They closed, finally defeated, and she grimaced as she stepped over to her ex-companion, feeling oddly free.

"If it makes you feel better, I probably will."


	2. The Speech

A/N: Alrighty, so this is finally the end. I'm really proud of this speech-- it was one of the hardest things I've ever written. So enjoy, dearests. :)

Disclaimer: Oh Harry Potter, I wish you were mine, cause if you were I think it would be really divine. :)

* * *

"Unity. Togetherness. Friendship." The words rang out clear and true, stark against the hubbub of after dinner chatter. The hall became silent.

"These are the words, the ideas that will get you always through times of hardship—times when expectations are ruined and fears become realities. I am sure that most of you, especially those seated to the far right have noticed the absence of our dearest and most beloved Head of Slytherin House. It is my great regret to inform all of you that last night, Salazar Slytherin resigned from his post as Head of House and Potions Master. For you, the students, he left this note.

'_To the students of Hogwarts, and most especially those of Slytherin House—_

_ I cannot begin to express my sorrow for my sudden and unorthodox departure, but tonight I came to the sudden and sad realization that the needs of this school and what I wish to teach have come in direct conflict. Due to that unfortunate and unforeseeable reason, I must resign from my post and leave the premises immediately. I know you may not understand the logic behind the swiftness of my exit, and the lamentable truth is that is it is simply the result of my own personal conflict. Any questions about my whereabouts or resignation may be directed to Madam Helga Hufflepuff. To those in Slytherin, I beg your forgiveness for this behaviour and hope that one day you will excuse an old man his ideals._

_Sincerely, _

_Salazar Slytherin."_

Helga closed the letter softly, tucking the false parchment into her robe and beginning to pace, her eyes roving across the young faces before her. For once she felt pity for the arrogant Slytherins, their faces broken and confused. She felt a flash of guilt wrench across her stomach before she pushed it down firmly. This had been the only sensible solution; if he _would_ have left voluntarily, she would have let him. She shook herself out, softening her eyes as she glanced across the Hall.

"Now, I will not insult any of your powers of observation—I'm sure most of you are fully aware of the nature of the Professor and I's relationship. I do not ask that you forget, or lie to me—however, I would ask that in turn none of you insult me by delving your noses into my business—especially you, Monsieur Demille," she said, looking pointedly at the editor of the school newspaper, who nodded, chastened.

"I do not know the exact location of the Professor, nor would I tell any of you if I did. I believe he did the right thing last night, as much as it grieves me to say so, and I think my fellow Professors would agree with me."

She looked over the students once again—the gay, barely serious Gryffindors, the perpetually attentive Ravenclaws, her own dear, affable Hufflepuffs... even the sly, dark-hearted Slytherins, who were looking as if their world had caved in and imploded.

"And the right thing is not always easy; it can be an arduous road sometimes, filled with twists and trials and unknown perils. When those times come upon you, we urge you, get along with one another. Do not attempt that road alone. We created the house system simply for comfort, to create a cohort of people with similar interests—never to segregate and divide. We—and this is all of the Professors, not just the Heads—feel that this division has grown more strongly lately.

And so, unfortunately, in the midst of this terrible time I must ask you all to accompany us on another adventure as we attempt to overcome this unforeseen obstacle. For the remainder of this year, there will be no Houses." She waited for the murmurs of outrage to die down before continuing.

"From now until June, Hogwarts will be your House. While your dorms will stay the same, you will find that there are corridors leading to the other dorms as well. Going from dormitory to dormitory is not considered violating curfew, but understand that not only will those hallways be patrolled after ten o'clock, but also that the girls dorm only corresponds with the girls, and the same with the boys.

I understand the inconvenience that this may cause, but please—I am asking for your full cooperation in this difficult time." Her voice was earnest, wavering just ever so slightly—she saw her Puffs give her sweet looks of sympathy. Her point was made—now was her chance to nail it down.

"Please." Despite the S_onorous_ charm, her voice was soft, and there was a collective leaning as everyone strained to hear her.

"Please, band together. Apart, there is no chance for the legacy of us as a school and of you all as individuals to grow; to live on and become the entity we dreamed of when the four of us began this school. Please, I am asking you as your Professor, as one who founded the school, and as one who has loved each and every one of you from the moment you walked through those doors. And yes, that even includes you Mr. Croggon.' She directed her gaze at one of the particularly nasty Slytherins.

She had them now. Finally, after so many years, so many battles; now, there would be a United Hogwarts.

"Please, honour the sacrifice made by your professor and become one." There was complete and total silence; Helga felt her throat close up involuntarily.

"You are dismissed," she said softly, turning from them and muttering a countercharm softly.

They would be bonded now, she was sure—house loyalties would remain, of course, but every single student in that Hall would be linked by that experience just then, those minutes of their Professor looking them straight in their eyes and pleading for help.

She glanced towards the now-empty Staff table, eyes landing on the untouched chair, and tears began to escape from her grim orbs.

She had finally achieved the unity she had dreamed of.

But at what cost?


End file.
